My dog/ puppy at my door. Tail turning, running circles, dark curls, mouth wild and open, smiling, gleeful. How can you feel me so deeply. How can you right all my wrongs so quickly, so easily. How can you love like this, my wild dog, my wildness, my untamed heart.
Early morning. And the dark thoughts in my head move slowly, a log jam down the dark rhythms of finding the daylight. Slow and rough i am coming here. A slightly grinding sense of attachment to the dream life. The thoughts struggle to right themselves in the temporal place. Sentences are groggy, weighed down by the pondering mind, peering into emptiness. the nothingness of the inner landscape.
We wish to regain those images, thoughts and experiences. a salve for the present moment, where fatigue and daylight collide, a rational. You have done nothing wrong, the last day was clearly filled with good intentions and right action, yet a wave of remorse is your breakfast.J
Just when you want to ask why, when you want to go sideways and slide away from the day, my black dog, the curls catching light, and the wiid neck hairs standing straight up
my black puppy runs circles and squeals and i open the door.
I am up the hill, foraging for last nights inhabitants of the dusty hillsides. I am in the grasses, finding yesterdays tennis balls and scrubbing my back with green grass and dead leaves. There will be no hesitation in he present moment anymore